U is for Update

Last night we put Koley in his bed, said good night, and left.  There were tears, pleading, some knocking, some coaxing, and some giggling.  It took 45 minutes.  We didn't go in.
After I had gotten on the treadmill and showered I checked in on the little sprout. 
Zonked.  In his bed.  Tucked in. 
The kid knows how to take care of himself after all.

I'm hoping tonight the shenanigan only lasts 15 minutes.  Heck.  If I'm hoping... I hope it doesn't happen at all!  I hope we give him his bath, jammy him up, lay him in bed, he tells us what wonderful parents we are, then closes his eyes and sleeps until 10 AM. 
Yeah.  That's what I hope happens.

I also hope all this treadmill crap pays off.  I'm doing 2.5 miles in 30 minutes.  It's one of those built in programs.  You know.. you start on a 2 and it's like... I'm not even moving!  So you bump it up to a 4... and the treadmill re-adjusts the whole thing... so you end up running at an 8.  When you were supposed to max out at 6.  And you're pretty sure that anyone with shorter legs than you couldn't run at an 8.  And you're sprinting and talking yourself out of standing on the sides for a second.  And the timer is running down and you only have to run for 7 more seconds.  Three.  Two. ErrrrrrRRRRRRRRR!  <-- Incline.  Speed 5.  Incline 8.  Yeah.  I stand on the side for part of that.
But I'm sweaty and that feels good.  And I'm sleeping better.  But I think that's because Joey sleeps all night now.
Currently on the look out for a running song.
I've been listening to a LOT of Eminem when I'm on there.  Could be the gray sweatpants I'm wearing.
But, if you come within 15 feet of the garage around 8 o'clock.. you'll here some breathless karaoke to "The Way I Am."

Last year's A to Z:  U is for Uncertainty. 

T is for Taking Charge

This is how bed time used to be with Kole:
Bath.
Lotion and dress.
Prayer.
Kiss.
Lights off.
Sleep.
Total time elapsed?  Ehhhh.... 15 minutes?

This is how bed time is now (<---- since he moved to a big bed 10 months ago.)
Bath.
Stalling in the tub.
I want to push the button.  This water was a little too warm let's start over.  Wrong towel!
Wrestle into clothes.  Well... at least the pants amid complaints of:
This is too small.  Wah. Too tight. Wah. Wrong jammies!  Wah.  I don't like those!  Wah.
Kole runs out of the room without a shirt on.
I get him.
Happy screaming from Koley.
Angry screaming in my head.
Get shirt on Kole.
Do burrito swing.
Prayer time.  I don't think I should really be able to call it prayer time.  Because I am saying a prayer.  Ken is watching Kole and Kole is doing whatever the "H" he feels like.
Normally rolling on the floor squeaking about Thomas the Tank Engine.
Lights off.
Lights back on because Kole wants to do it.
Lights off.
Kiss.
Chompy Dovey.
Snuggle.
Special Talk.
Kiss from Daddy.
Chompy Dovey from Daddy.
Chuggy Chuggy from Daddy.
Special Talk from Daddy.
We leave.

Quiet for 35 seconds.

Knocking on the door.
Mom?
Mom?
Mom?
Mom?  Mom?  Mom?
Mawwwwww-meeeeeeeee!
Mawwwwww-meeeeeeeee.
Books start getting slid under the door.
Dad?
Daddy?
Daddy?
Goes for 5 minutes.

Crying starts.
Door kicking.
Crying.
I go in there.
"I need something, Mom?"
 It's terrible.  And all my fault.

It's been 10 months in forming the worst habit ever.  A habit that's there every night.  For 2 and a half hours.  And I'm sick-of-it!I get so fuming mad at him for not going to bed and really.... he's 2.  So, it's my fault he doesn't do it right. It's my fault for going in there over and over and over.  Me and Super Nanny give me a lot of crap after I've given into 768 requests from what should be a sleeping Koley.
The Bad Sloppy Unable to Discipline Mom groupies came over and asked me to be their President.
That's when I knew it was way worse than I thought.  AND!  I start looking forward to bedtime at like 3:30 in the afternoon.  So when it's supposed to be at 7 and it happens at 9:30... I'm not saying anything nice in my head.  And I'm normally not talking at all.  I am walking silently and rigidly around the house with my jaw clenched and one eyebrow up.  It's my angry stance.

So, to end the humiliation and bad feelings towards a genuinely sweet kid, I'm taking charge!  I am 14 times his age... and way more times smarter than him.  Although my sentence structure and grammar proves otherwise.  I've created a chart with Sleep Rules.  And we are going to have a lesson about going to bed the right way.  And there's a reward system.  And if he gets up and pounds on the door- I'll walk in and not talk and put him right back in bed.  No sympathies.  No coddling.  The buck stops here, Koler-roosk. 
And so does the bowls of crackers, refills on water, extra snuggles, late night readings from Who Put The Pepper In The Pot, checking under the bed, looking out the window for train engines, and getting your stuffed animals dressed for bed. 


Last year's A to Z: T is for T is for Thirty-Two.  A little post to commemorate 32 weeks of pregnancy.